The One With Nostalgia
by greenish orange
Summary: [Complete] Chandler has really grown up after all. CM.


**A/N: **This is my first post-finale story, but really, it takes place only minutes after the ending, and it's not technically a _story, _but a one-chaptered standalone. So, really, if you think about it, my first "post-finale story" is just a bunch of mussed up technicalities. Interestingly pointless, don't you think?

-

Chandler peered over his coffee cup into the blue eyes of his newborn daughter. She was a tiny thing, hardly larger than a doll; half the length of his arm; a perfectly proportioned miniature person; a delicate masterpiece. He was terrified of hurting her – of hurting her plump arms, her nimble, ever-grasping fingers, her delightfully rosy cheeks, her chubby belly, her wisps of blonde hair, her button nose, her vulnerable eyes, her arched eyebrows, her curling lashes; not that he was becoming schmaltzy, or anything. He watched her chest rise and fall and ached; ached because she was his, _his, _and nothing could change that; and also ached because she was not, and he so wanted her to be.

There was no mistaking her resemblance to her birth mother. There couldn't be any mistake. She didn't have Monica's dark hair, or her lips, or her chin, or her cheekbones . . . she didn't have his nose or his eyebrows . . . but, Chandler thought, as she awoke with a start and reached weakly with her hands, she did have their eyes. Crisp blue, as if freshly painted. Maybe God was merciful, after all.

He couldn't concentrate on anything his friends were saying. Maybe for the first time in his life, their conversations didn't seem so important to him. He felt his family beside him, saw them in front of him, and a feeling akin to knighthood surged through him. He was a father. He, Chandler Muriel Bing, the _funny one, _the _jokester, _the _commitment phobic train wreck of a ladies' man, _was the father of two beautiful children. _Children_. And just hours earlier he had been nervously awaiting a _child_.

Chandler felt as though he was backed into a corner. God, how he loved Jack and Erica, God how he worshipped them . . . Monica was blissfully happy, one hand nestled instinctively in his own, the another supporting Jack's head. She was finally in the position she always wanted – a mother, a successful chef, happily married (he hoped) . . . And yet, and yet –

Suddenly, Chandler felt claustrophobic. He stood up and looked into Monica's concerned face. Seven pairs of eyes seemed to bore into him.

"I just – I need – some fresh air," he told her quietly. She watched him for a moment, wide-eyed with worry, then nodded and squeezed his hand. He kissed her knuckles.

Outside, he found a semi-comfortable piece of curb and sat, breathing in the cool dusk air. He could smell the burnt, meaty aroma of steak from some restaurant down the street. The sounds of the city fell on his ears like music. In the din, he heard the coffeehouse door swing open with a familiar creak.

"Change sucks, doesn't it?" a voice said. Chandler looked up at Rachel and patted the curb next to him.

"Come and wallow in my nostalgia."

Rachel sat obediently. "You sure know how to woo a girl, don't you?"

Chandler coughed out a laugh. Rachel crossed her arms and looked at him. "You okay, honey?"

"Monica send you?" he asked.

"No, no," she said, feigning offense. "I came out here completely on my own, hope you know, so good riddance to you and your judgmental attitude."

"That's a _whole _lot of words for you this late in the day," Chandler teased, smiling.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at a newspaper stand across the way. A stray cat was pawing angrily at the Times. Rachel followed his gaze.

"Looks like Julio, doesn't it?" she commented amusedly. After a long bout of silence, she sighed and touched his forearm comfortingly. "Monica's really happy."

At her name, Rachel noticed his eyes soften. Her heart swelled in sudden emotion – for them, for their children, for their future. She only hoped, in that moment, that someone saw that much love and understanding in her and Ross as she saw in Chandler and Monica.

"I'm happy, too," he said finally.

Rachel watched his face closely.

"I mean, of course I'm happy." He ran a hand through his hair. "But I'm also terrified. What if I mess up? What if Jack and Erica find me annoying, or incompetent, or unsuitable parent material? What if I can't prepare their meals right? What if – what if they want the crust cut off their PB and J sandwich and I forget _every single time_?"

"You won't mess up," said Rachel, touched by his concern. "You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because Monica won't let you."

Chandler smiled, albeit reluctantly. "True."

"She loves you so much, Chandler, you're _everything_ to her – well, you, and her babies." Rachel looked at him earnestly. "I know I'm jealous sometimes. I was overwhelmed with jealousy at your wedding. It was just, I felt so – she just found someone so – and I –" Rachel sighed. "You know what I mean, right?"

"I think so," said Chandler slowly.

"Nobody saw it coming," said Rachel thoughtfully, "but when it did, it was like, 'Why is this happening just _now?_' You two were always close; I guess we just took that closeness for granted. We never knew it would turn into anything."

"Least of all me," said Chandler, smiling in a strangely bitter way. "I guess I'm just lucky, huh?"

"No!" cried Rachel insistently. "No! Don't you get it? Monica loves you more than she loved Pete, more than she loved Richard, more than she loved everybody she ever dated – _combined_. You weren't _lucky_, not at all! It was going to happen eventually, because it's so right! And I truly believe that!"

As she stared forcefully into Chandler's face, determined to persuade him of his importance, she was surprised to see a mournful expression quite unlike anything she had ever seen him wear. "Do you think she'll ever forgive me, though?"

Rachel was shocked into numbness. She only stared at him, her heart ballooning with dread. Oh God, oh God, oh God, what happened? Was there something, _something _he had never told them? Was it possible that Chandler – no, it couldn't be possible –

He seemed unaware of her panic. "I promised her a baby, you know, all those years ago – at the hospital when Carol was having Ben – I thought it would cheer her up, she looked so depressed –"

Rachel breathed again as she grasped the true meaning of his solemnity.

"But," she said, thinking back, "that was before –"

"Yeah," he said distantly. "But ever since then, I swore to myself that if the need arose, I would fulfill that promise in one way or another. I don't know, I guess it felt like – what the hell, no strings attached. Who _knows_ what I was thinking. So, when we got married, I felt so happy – I would be able to, you know, give her a baby, something she wanted more than anything else in the world." Chandler looked out into the distance, his face stony. "And – I couldn't."

Rachel said the only thing she could. "It's not your fault."

"I know."

Rachel didn't expect such an answer. She expected him to argue with her; heroically – and stupidly – own up to something he had no control over. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with so much love for this man she felt her eyes well with unwonted tears.

"You've really grown up," she told him, her voice rather strangled.

"It's shocking, isn't it?"

Rachel dabbed at her eyes and pulled Chandler to her in an affectionate half-hug. He tousled her hair and she laughed, laughed until tears streamed down her face and she wondered if they were really of nostalgia or of mirth, as he intended.

The door of Central Perk swung open once more. Rachel caught Monica's eye and smiled tearfully. She squeezed Chandler's shoulder, stood, and returned to their friends.

"Hey," Monica said, taking Rachel's place at Chandler's side. "You feeling blue?"

"Melancholy, actually. But close."

Monica leaned close to him, so that his smell engulfed her, and wrapped her arms around his waist. He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes contentedly. "You're a wonderful man," murmured Monica in his ear. "And we have our children."

"Yes," said Chandler, gently playing with her fingers. "We do."


End file.
